


Stand In The Rain

by RinAngel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Bonding over bad mental health ayee, Comfort, Cuddles, Fluff, In-Universe RPF, M/M, NCT 2020, Panic Attacks, Sungchan is A Good Boy, Taeyong is an Anxious Baby, Unrequited Crush, idolverse, it's only shippy if you squint, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel
Summary: Sungchan's first love swept him up hard and cut him deep. His name was Lee Taeyong; he had a smile like the sun and eyes like the stars and a soul like fire, and Sungchan wanted to be as close to that warmth as he could, craved it with every cell of his being.
Relationships: Jung Sungchan/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Stand In The Rain

There were certain people who had a  _ radiance _ to them that Sungchan couldn’t place or explain. They had a light in their faces that drew people in, made you want to keep your eyes on them. He’d seen it in Kim Jonghyun, when he had first seen SHINee live at the age of ten years old. He’d seen it in Tiffany Young the few times he’d passed her by in the company building— she smiled at everyone, trainee or CEO, like she’d be their best friend.

Lee Taeyong had that radiance. That dash of stardust in his eyes, that quiet confidence that sold his every move. He was bare-faced as he stood across from Sungchan in the little SM board room, wearing a baggy crewneck and a pair of too-short track pants with his hair shoved under an oversized bucket hat— and when he smiled at Sungchan, it flipped a switch in him and made him feel something that he absolutely couldn’t explain. He would follow Taeyong step for step, just to make sure he never lost sight of him. There was something  _ incredible _ about him.

Shotaro bowed next to him. Sungchan was a half-second late in following suit, but if Taeyong noticed, he didn’t seem to hold it against him. “Welcome to the team. We’re really excited to have you as our newest members.”

“Yes,” Sungchan answered before he could even think, wincing at his own fumbling. “Ah, I mean— thank you. Sorry…”

Taeyong chuckled— effortless. It actually made Sungchan feel like less of an idiot, which was a feat in itself.

“We’ve finished practicing for the day, so why don’t I treat you both to dinner? I’d like the chance to get to know you both, and you can ask me any questions you might have for me.”

It wasn’t only Taeyong that went with them - Doyoung and Jaehyun were free, and they tagged along, and they seemed great - but in Sungchan’s mind, it might as well have been just him and Taeyong. The leader was vibrant, smiled like he cared and asked questions like he was interested, even though he was probably dead tired from NCT and SuperM schedules. He shared food with Sungchan and Shotaro, even, like they were friends instead of new acquaintances— “Seriously, help me finish this! I really shouldn’t eat it all, it’s so fattening, but it’s  _ so  _ good.” He looked up into Sungchan’s face, eyes lighting up and cracking such an unexpectedly genuine smile that Sungchan wanted to melt. “You have sauce on your chin.”

Then, without a moment’s hesitation, without  _ time _ for a second thought, he grabbed a clean napkin and stood up slightly to reach across the table and wipe the smudge away. Two hours after meeting, Taeyong was treating him like a brother. It was so flattering. So  _ flustering. _ He almost couldn’t form words, and he caught his own voice shaking as he stammered out, “H-Hyung— you, also… have…”

Taeyong’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he pulled back, using the same napkin thoughtlessly to wipe his own mouth. Sungchan had to fight back a giggle, but his lips trembled as he touched his cheek with his index finger, just below his left eye, and Taeyong mirrored him instantly to wipe off the splatter of sauce in the same place.

“What… wait, how did I get food there?! Doyoung, did you  _ see _ that?!”

“Yeah. I saw that. I wasn’t going to tell you,” Doyoung answered, with the dry cadence of someone teasing a  _ true _ best friend. He’d been warm and friendly with the two of them as well, and he was certainly handsome in person, but he didn’t pull every bit of Sungchan’s attention the way that Taeyong did.

Sungchan knew that idols weren’t allowed to date, and so he’d decided, naively, at the beginning of his training that he just  _ wouldn’t _ fall in love. But there was no sidestepping it, no ignoring it, his first love swept him up  _ hard _ and cut him deep.

His name was Lee Taeyong; he had a smile like the sun and eyes like the stars and a soul like fire, and Sungchan wanted to be as close to that warmth as he could, craved it with every cell of his being.

//

Taeyong had told them, on the very first day of training, that Shotaro and Sungchan could always call him if they needed help. “If I’m at a schedule, I’lll turn my phone off, but otherwise I’ll answer. I’m a really light sleeper. No, don’t worry about it. I’m used to running on no sleep.”

Taeyong wasn’t joking. When Sungchan got the news that he was going to debut with NCT, Taeyong was just returning from SuperM promotions in America, and NCT 2020 was looming ahead of them. Oftentimes his schedules overlapped, Doyoung had explained once, when they were sitting in the studio, watching Kun record and still anxiously waiting for Taeyong to show up. “He’s tired all the time. Sometimes he sleeps in his studio so he won’t have to waste the time commuting,” he explained, not looking up from his phone. These were  _ professionals, _ people who didn’t bat an eye at dancing for twelve hours on three hours of sleep.

“How does he keep going? Like, you’d never be able to tell—”

Doyoung shrugged. “It’s because he lives for this stuff. Not even music, but  _ entertaining,  _ having fans. It’s like he was born for this.”

“Were you, hyung?” Sungchan knew it was a stupid question, and the look that Doyoung gave him did nothing but confirm. But before he could open his mouth to ask Sungchan if he was  _ fucking crazy, _ the studio door opened and Taeyong slipped inside, bowing low to beg forgiveness for being late.

“About time! You’ll be the last to record after Kun,” Doyoung replied, glancing up just for a moment before moving his bag from the chair beside himself, giving the leader somewhere to sit.

“Okay. I’m ready,” Taeyong confirmed immediately, sitting heavily and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He seemed— less put together, somehow, but Sungchan couldn’t tell if he was imagining it. He was wearing a bucket hat and a disposable mask, his face almost entirely hidden.  _ His shoulders are shaking, aren’t they? When he holds still— _

“Sorry, I almost forgot. Hi, Sungchan.” The sound of his own name yanked Sungchan out of his own head, and he blinked, refocusing on Taeyong’s eyes.  _ You were staring, dumbass. _ Reflexively, Sungchan bowed his head in respect, wishing it wouldn’t be too obvious to pull his own mask back up and hide his blush.

“S-Sorry. Hello, hyung. Ah—”  _ His eyes look dead. He looks so tired.  _ “H-Have you eaten yet?”

“Me? No. I was going to be late as it was…” Taeyong trailed off uncharacteristically— he always knew just what he was supposed to say, Sungchan had never heard him falter like this before.

“Really? We’re going to get dinner after this,” Doyoung swooped in before Sungchan could, such a natural that he didn’t even need to glance at his groupmate as he spoke. “I’ll treat you.”

“You don’t have to,” Taeyong protested quietly, but it wasn’t much of an argument, because Kun came out of the booth and Taeyong was quickly shuffled in in his place. Sungchan bit his lip, shyly watching through the glass as Taeyong removed his hat and mask at the mic.

_ He’s been crying. _ That was all Sungchan could think to himself, because Taeyong’s red cheeks and puffy eyes were like no exhaustion he’d ever seen before. Next to him, he could hear Doyoung’s breath catch, too, but he didn’t say a word.

“Is he— okay?”

Sungchan hardly realized that he’d said anything, except for the fact that Doyoung and Kun turned to look at him like he had three heads. Quickly, he looked back down at his phone, wishing he’d said nothing. “S-Sorry.”

“In this industry,” Doyoung answered at last, looking straight ahead and avoiding Sungchan’s eyes, “if someone doesn’t ask you for help, assume they’re okay.”

//

Sungchan and Shotaro had both thought they were ready for NCT’s schedules— after all, trainee life was no walk in the park, they’d already been living with no sleep and no social lives. The only difference would be the cameras and the makeup, Sungchan had naively assumed, until he was actually there  _ living  _ in the hell that was NCT 2020. If it wasn’t dance lessons, it was a recording session, and if not  _ that,  _ there was usually a taping or a Vlive to be getting prepared for. Sungchan was taking English lessons every evening, while Shotaro was studying Korean; Sungchan had never been much good with foreign languages, but he was an idol now, and he was coming to realize how important language was to the gig. Then there was the gym, which Johnny and Jaehyun and Yuta visited religiously, but Sungchan found that he rarely had the energy to work out when he finished the rest of his exhausting schedule. He couldn’t imagine how members like Taeyong and Mark could still muster up their creative energy to work on lyrics in their free time, because when he got a free moment to rest, that was his cue for a power-nap.

A power-nap was not what Sungchan should have been thinking of at nearly 9 PM, but he’d been fantasizing about it since about two-thirds of the way through their OT23 dance rehearsal. He and Shotaro had been crammed into the Dream dorms, and though they were still relying on roll-away cots instead of proper beds, Sungchan couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be than with his face buried in his pillow,  _ unmoving.  _ Staying still was such a luxury.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t  _ quite  _ time yet. The team had dinner reservations, and some of the members were planning on streaming from the restaurant so they could talk to the fans. Another hour, then, of staying proper and perfect before he could go home and just  _ vegetate. _

Unfortunately, half of them were in their vans when Johnny suddenly seemed to notice: “Where did Taeyong-hyung go?”

“I think he got a phone call towards the end of practice. He said something about going into his studio to call his mom,” Yuta answered, barely looking up from his own phone.

“Why didn’t you say something before we got down here? I don’t want to climb up all those stairs again,” Johnny sighed, taking his phone out of his pocket to call their leader. The call went straight to voicemail, Sungchan could hear the faintest whisper of the sound, and he was not surprised to see Johnny’s eyes scanning the members immediately around him for someone to send back in his stead. Unfortunately for Sungchan, he happened to be the youngest that still hadn’t loaded up into a vehicle. “Sungchan, go back and get him, will you? I’ll text you the studio passcode. He’s probably started working on a project and lost track of the time or something.”

“Oh… uh— what if he’s still on the phone?”

Jungwoo laughed quietly from Johnny’s other side. “We’re all crammed too tightly together for secrets. Not that you’ll probably hear anything too juicy from Taeyong-hyung, anyway— now, if it were  _ Yuta-hyung  _ in a mysterious phone call—”

“Hey, Jaehyun says you get some pretty mysterious late-night phone calls yourself!”

And so, at the risk of being sucked into another awkward conversation (NCT members seemed to have a lot of those), Sungchan had agreed to venture back into the SM building and took the stairs all the way back up to Taeyong’s studio. After such a long and vigorous dance practice, his legs were already feeling like jelly, but six flights of stairs on top of that had him just about gasping, and he had to stop for a moment and catch his breath. 

He  _ really _ didn’t want to do this— and in fact, the only reason he  _ could _ do it was because it was Taeyong, who had never been anything but nice to him. Had it been Ten, who often got impatient with him in dance practice, or Taeil, who staunchly refused to look  _ up _ to acknowledge the younger, he might have tried to beg the job off onto someone else.  _ But this is Taeyong. He probably did just get distracted, and he’ll look up from his computer at me and laugh at himself like always. If it’s Taeyong-hyung, it will be fine. _

When he got to the studio, Sungchan knocked first, tentatively and then with a little more force. No answer, not even the sound of stirring from within.  _ What if he’s not even here? What if they make me run around and look for him before we can go eat? Shit. _ He was already sweating about this possibility as he punched in the five-digit number into the studio door’s keypad.

He was expecting empty darkness, and he got half of the equation. The lights and the computer were turned off, and his eyes didn’t pick up anything at first in the darkness— it was a whimper that made him freeze in place, staring at the back of Taeyong’s chair and wondering what in the  _ world _ he’d just heard. If Taeyong was crying, if the strongest of them was breaking down, then it had to be something big.

A little gasp sounded, a little hiccup. “Who’s there?” Taeyong asked weakly, sounding more fragile than Sungchan could take. No, he didn’t want to see his leader like this, he didn’t want that for  _ either of them,  _ but it wasn’t like he could turn and run. It  _ was _ something big, and— maybe it was something that Taeyong was shouldering by himself. He  _ did _ tend to be that type of person.

After a moment’s hesitation, Sungchan stepped in and closed the door behind him, relying on the glow of his phone screen for light in the small room. “It’s Sungchan,” he answered softly, trying not to let his voice quiver. “We’re getting ready to go out to eat, but— are you okay, hyung? If you’re not—”  _ What are you saying, you idiot, he knows how to take care of himself!  _ “—if you’re not, we can sit here for a minute or two…”

Taeyong was silent and motionless for one second, two seconds— and then, slowly, the chair at the desk turned, and there was Taeyong, bare cheeks red and streaked with tears. He’d never pictured Taeyong as the emotional type; sure, he’d seen him cry onstage, accepting awards, but that was nothing like the gut-deep sobs that it would take to leave a person so wrecked and hollow-looking. The camera didn’t do justice to how tiny Taeyong was, Sungchan thought, how fragile.

“Are you guys done practice early?” he questioned, slipping his glasses up his forehead to massage his eyeballs.

“No. A little late, actually.”

“Ah…” Taeyong peeked at his phone, wincing a little bit. “I’m sorry. I hate letting other people see me like this. And everyone’s been waiting on me, haven’t they…”

“It’s okay, though. Half of them weren’t out yet,” Sungchan assured him quickly, though it wasn’t exactly true. “We— we can wait a couple more minutes. Do you need some water? I have some in my bag.”

Why was he being so damn awkward, anyway? It wasn’t like Taeyong had asked for his help. But Taeyong had smiled gratefully and accepted anyway, and Sungchan reached for the desk lamp so that he could see enough to retrieve his water bottle. He tried to be respectful and not look at the elder too much, but it was hard. Strangely, Sungchan found himself wishing that they were closer, so that it might be appropriate to reach across the space between them and the tears off his cheeks. Taeyong was too beautiful for tears, he couldn’t bear it.

“I’m really sorry that I interrupted you,” Sungchan said after a moment of watching Taeyong drink. Even in tears, he was cute— the way he filled his cheeks up with water before swallowing, eyes wide and wet, pinkened but pretty. “But I mean— if there’s any way that I can help you…”

Taeyong shook his head dismissively. “You didn’t interrupt. I was just coming to the end of my panic attack. They never last very long— I just like to come have them by myself because I’m an ugly crier.”

_ Panic attacks?  _ Sungchan’s stomach knotted. He knew what those felt like, he’d had one just the night before! “You have panic attacks?” he questioned faintly, peeking up at Taeyong as he inspected his face with his phone camera and tried to wipe away the last traces of his tears. “I didn’t realize that. I’m really sorry. I know they suck… if it’s okay to ask, do you know what triggers them?”

“Oh, you know. Looking at my schedule.” Taeyong winced. “I have a SuperM broadcast tomorrow. Me and Mark have to be here in the morning, bright and early. I’m just tired, that’s all, but I’ll be okay…” He was quiet, rubbing his eyes once more, and then he peeked at Sungchan from behind his hand as he passed the water back. “Thanks, Sungchan. Can you keep this quiet? Doyoung and Mark know, but other than that… I don’t want the others thinking that their leader is weak.”

“Of course, hyung. I won’t tell anyone,” Sungchan promised at once, and he bit his lip as he hesitated, adding on in a near-whisper, “I don’t think you’re weak, though. You’re a great leader— I think you’re incredibly strong.” His face burned, and he was glad that the lighting was at least dim.

“Thanks. You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, though.” With a sigh, Taeyong stood, stretching tall with his arms behind his head as he got ready to sit in the van, sit at the restaurant, and probably sit in his desk chair back at the dorms to produce some more before bed.

“I’m not. I really mean it.” Sungchan’s heart was racing as he stood too, and it was all he could focus on. He was about to do something stupid, something needlessly self-indulgent. “Do you… want a hug?”

“Oh…” Taeyong’s eyes widened, and suddenly,  _ he _ was blushing. Just a little, just a  _ tiny  _ bit, but it made Sungchan’s heart turn to goo. He giggled, putting an arm around Sungchan before he realized what was happening, and drawing him in tight. He was small, but strong, and for all the dying it had been through, it felt wonderfully soft nestled against Sungchan’s jaw. “Hey, thanks. I actually don’t remember the last time I’ve hugged someone, but it really helps.” Taeyong made a face. “Doyoung doesn’t do hugs. Mark does hugs, but he’s too bony and they suck.”

“Really?” Sungchan smiled to himself, even as Taeyong stepped back and he lost that wonderful warmth— he’d had it for a moment, and that was really all that mattered. “I mean… you can hug me anytime, hyung. No explanation needed.”

It was a dangerous offer. Sungchan could still feel Taeyong’s body against his, could still smell the remaining traces of his cologne. His craving for him was nothing sexual, which probably made it all the more lame.  _ I just want you close. If I can be any sort of comfort to you… _

“Thanks, Sungchannie. I might take you up on that.” Taeyong grinned—  _ warm,  _ he was so warm, so  _ blindingly  _ warm— and his hand felt like it was doing the most natural thing in the world by taking Sungchan’s tight. “Let’s not keep the others waiting. Besides, food is always the best thing after a good cry.”

Always looking onto the next thing, pedal to the metal. Sungchan expected nothing else— honestly, he wondered if Taeyong even knew how strong he was.


End file.
